Summer Lessons
by Lain of the Weird
Summary: A drabble about the Orphanage gang. I think it's cute. You may think it's cheesy. Seifer centric. Minor Selphie and Ellone bashing.


Notes/Disclaimer: Surprise that I haven't dropped off the face of the earth yet? Yeah, me too. I've been on a rather extended break from any sort of structured work (getting very, very lazy. I love it.) But here's a drabble, idea is MINE, Seifer and co are not. They belong to Square.

_It was one of those summers where the rain never stopped. Pelting like kamikaze sky divers, droplets of water thudding melodically against the ocean, the sand, the window panes. The litany was one of madness, sheer repetition. Especially to adventuresome boys._

_The day was not shaping up to be fun, in any way shape or form. All the games of slap jack that young brains could tolerate had been played several hours earlier, and even hide and seek had lost its charm. Playing with Selphie usually had that effect. She was too young, too impatient to be a good hider, and lacked the attention span to be a good seeker. _

_Mutiny against the adults was brewing; he had already tripped all the other children, in hopes that it would alleviate this mind numbing boredom. But even that was only a temporary measure against what was shaping up to be a very, very long term problem. Euthanasia was beginning to sound better and better._

_Currently everyone else was doing something boring. Squall was perched on Ellone's lap like the little dweeb that he was, stealing sips of her cocoa, and listening to her read some horribly stupid book about a boy named Oliver. He had tried reading it once, all long stupid words with no pictures. Selphie and Zell were engaged in a tournament of Rock Paper Scissor. So far the score was at a tie of six million. Neither had discovered the art of choosing an alternative to rock. Quistis was off in a corner staring out into space, over-large front teeth worrying her lower lip. She was probably thinking about something dumb, like the shape of a rain drop. Irvine was braiding her hair. _

_He wanted to move. To run around the house screaming, without being shushed by Ellone, or worse Matron. Ellone was just annoying, pretty clothes, soft voice, and eyes for no one but the brunet burr stuck to the hem of her skirt. It was infuriating sometimes. _

_A shadow falls over him, and he looks up into the honey colored eyes of the Matron. She quirks a black eyebrow at him, which he returns with an angelic smile. _

_He does not fool the enigmatic woman though, and she swoops down like an angel of vengeance, scooping him up in strong arms and carrying him over to her favorite arm chair by the window, despite his protestations. At age six he was far too old to be carried, and took any implications of dependence as a personal insult. _

_She smiles at him, one shared between conspirators, and suddenly all cabin fever is forgotten. From behind her chair she pulls a basket of colored strings and metal needles. He shoots his maternal figure a raised eyebrow, a loud 'is this all you got?' _

_She gets the message clearly, and ruffles his hair with the hand not holding the basket on her knee. Out comes a piece of cloth dangling from one of the needles, and she moves the other against it, letting the material grow hastily, before pulling it off and handing it to the blond in her lap. _

_He examines the treasure carefully, rubbing stubby fingers over the bumps and valleys, before seizing on a dangling string and giving a mighty pull, laughing gleefully as the square turns back into woolen string. By the time he's finished with his fun, the pile of yarn is overflowing the small bowl of his lap, and he has attracted the attention of his adopted siblings. He smirks at them and passes the Matron the puddle of green wool. "Again!"_

_Her laugh is lilting, and she shakes her head, long black curls rippling down her back. Her hair was laughing too. She doesn't need to answer the little blond verbally, only twists him around so that they face the same direction, and guides the aluminum needles into his hands. With the skill of a master puppeteer, she guides short fingers around the metal and wool, helping him create a slip knot, and then cast on. _

_His green eyes are locked on the movement in front of him, light glittering off the needles and filaments in the yarn, calling a young boys mind to adventures of finding and hiding treasures. He scowls, and pays closer attention to the movements in front of him. Daydreams were for girls. _

_Ash colored fingers guide chubby fists around the yarn, and her voice is soothing. "Stab, twist, duck, slide." Over and over, hands mimicking words as the needles dance with the yarn, a ragged row of stitches following blunted points. _

_It was a new concept to young Seifer, creation before destruction. Never before had he been able to make something, do something, that none of the others could. He could stomp on Quistis' sandcastles and Zell's catapults, but none of the others could touch his knitting. He wouldn't let them, and he hoarded the knowledge miserly. _

_The first thing he ever made without destroying was a pink and yellow scarf for Matron's birthday. He didn't particularly like the color pink, but it was what girls wore, and Matron, wise and wonderful as she was, was a girl. And the yellow had just been tangled up with the pink when he had borrowed it from her basket. _

_The scarf did nothing for Edea's beauty, pink was not her color, and the yellow brought out blue tints in her skin, but she wore it good naturedly. It was a gift from one of her children, a gift that she had been able to give one of her boys. And it was precious because of that._

Now stab, twist, duck, and slide was his fighting style, the music of straining muscles and red slicked steel. Creation was a concept equally unwelcome and foreign to him. The soft squeal of needles was all but forgotten, lumped into a time that was not the present; fire, broken glass, and barbed wire.

The music of the needles, harmonizing with the rain, and accompanying a sense of humanity was lost to him forever.


End file.
